Our summer, then, thus far, has not been a "laughing," but, at the best, a merely smiling summer. There has been but little actual sunshine, rarely such a thing as a blue, unclouded sky; but, if we do not err, if the wish be not altogether father to the thought, a splendid autumn, glad and golden--summer and autumn in one, like the companion scenes in a stereoscope, in close and kindly combination--is in store for us. Even as it is, the country is very beautiful, and the rains of the west, if superabundant, are at least perfectly harmless to any one in ordinary health, no matter how often you get drenched through and through, as the saying is, provided always you do not idly saunter or sit down for any length of time in wet clothes; neglect this precaution, however, and you may look out for an attack of rheumatism, and the taste of pains to which the tortures of the rack were but a joke--pains as fiery and intense as those threatened against the foul-mouthed Caliban in the Tempest. You recollect what Prospero says-- "Hag-seed hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; Fill all thy bones with aches; make thee roar That beasts shall tremble at thy din!" Get wet, then, as often and as much as you like, in the West Highlands, but don't sit down or idle about in wet clothes, is a friend's advice; otherwise, you will soon have a pretty correct idea of the nature of the cramps and aches of which even the brutal Caliban had such a horror that he exclaims:-- "No, 'pray thee!-- I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him." Supplementary to our last paper on the spells and incantations of the Highlands, the following has been sent to us by our kind correspondent, Mr. Carmichael, of the Inland Revenue, Island of Uist, a gentleman of whom highly honourable mention is made in Mr. Campbell's West Highland Tales, and in some of the notes to the Rev. Dr. Clerk's Ossian. Mr. Carmichael is more conversant, perhaps, than anybody else with the antiquities and folk-lore of the Outer Hebrides. The incantation that follows was taken down by Mr. Carmichael from the recitation of "an honest, unsophisticated old Banarach, or dairymaid, in North Uist, who is even yet occasionally consulted about sickly cows":-- Rann Leigheas Galar Cruidh.